My Vampire Beloved Husband
Chapter 132: A Long Forgotten Promise

Chapter 132: A Long Forgotten Promise

Naomi knelt on the bed, glancing around. Everything was blurry. The walls, the room—everything except the long black hair she was trying to weave with her fingers, as if playing some kind of game with its silkiness. She stared at the strands, the way they glimmered in the soft light, and realized... she wasn’t in control of her own body.

Her lips moved, but she hadn’t willed them to. Was it a dream? Yes, it had to be. But then, how was it so real? Why did it feel so... familiar?

She turned, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The place felt familiar, yet strangely distant, as if she had known it once but forgotten. To the side, she noticed a small black vase, delicate and unassuming, sitting quietly on a table. The soft glow of the room reflected off its smooth surface, almost beckoning her attention.

Then, a deep voice broke the silence.

"I’m glad you liked the gift."

Naomi smiled before responding, her voice light with affection. She didn’t recognize this man, yet there was a sense of comfort in his presence, an undeniable pull toward him.

"Why wouldn’t I love a gift from my dear husband, hmm?" The words slipped out almost naturally, as if she had spoken them countless times before.

She leaned in as the man finally turned toward her. His face was blurry, yet the only thing she could see clearly was his hair—long, dark, and silky. It flowed like liquid night, catching the faint light in the room, a feature so striking that Naomi couldn’t take her eyes off it.

"I’m really in love with this hair of yours," she murmured, her fingers almost instinctively moving to touch the dark strands.

The man chuckled, the sound unsettlingly familiar.

Why does this voice sound so familiar?

It still felt like a dream, but the difference was... while she was herself in it, she couldn’t—control herself. Her movements were foreign, as though someone else had taken the reins of her body. It was as if her mind were a prisoner, watching, but unable to intervene.

The man chuckled again, his voice laced with amusement.

"Now I’m really getting scared. What if you start loving this hair more than you love your husband himself?"

Naomi giggled, shaking her head as though she were playing along with a game that didn’t quite make sense to her. But there was a warmth in his words, something that made her feel comforted, yet uneasy.

"This hair belongs to my husband, and anything that belongs to my husband is what I love," she said, before leaning in to hug him. Her fingers gently brushed through his silky strands as she whispered, "Promise me... promise me you won’t cut this hair. Keep it as long as mine. Keep growing it, my husband."

The man’s voice dropped to a quiet murmur.

"Of course, my love. Why wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t I?" He paused, his tone deepening as he leaned closer, almost as if to whisper a secret only meant for her. "I’ll keep it as long as we’re together."

"That means... you’ll always be by my side. And this hair—it will always be here. Unless..." His voice tightened, a flicker of something darker crossing his features. "Unless you leave me. But that would be impossible. So, consider this hair a promise."

She smiled, but her voice softened, turning almost hesitant.

"What if... what if one day I die?"

The question slipped from her lips, and for a moment, the world around her seemed to freeze, as if time itself had heard her words and was waiting for an answer. The man’s expression didn’t change immediately. Instead, he leaned in closer, cupping her cheeks in his hands, his touch firm yet gentle.

"You won’t," he murmured. "You can’t. Remember? We can’t die."

Naomi shook her head slightly. "But what if... just what if?"

He exhaled softly, his fingers brushing against her skin as he whispered, "That’s why it’s just a ’what if.’ Because it won’t happen."

The strange thing was that in Naomi’s mind, the questions she wanted to ask were completely different from the ones that left her lips. She wanted to ask, ’Is this a dream? Why am I here?’ But instead, the words that came out were something else entirely. It was as if she was trapped inside her own body, watching herself speak to this unknown man—this mysterious figure.

This dream felt different. It wasn’t the kind where she had control, where she could consciously decide what to say or do. She was merely a spectator, observing her own actions as though she were someone else. Helpless. A prisoner in her own body.

And then, he spoke.

"Oh, you won’t, baby," he murmured, his voice smooth and familiar. "I haven’t even put an heir to this lovely tummy of yours yet, huh?"

He chuckled, and without thinking, Naomi playfully nudged his shoulder. The motion felt so natural, as though it was something she had done a thousand times before. But it was all wrong.

"Oh, you tease too much, hubby."

He grinned. "I tease a lot because of my wife—" He paused, correcting himself with a small laugh. "I mean, I love when my wife’s cheeks flush from teasing."

Naomi laughed softly, warmth filling her chest. But somewhere beneath that warmth, an unfamiliar chill lingered. Why did it all feel so off?

"I hope we never get tired of loving each other," she whispered, the words coming from some deep place within her. "Or of being this affectionate forever."

The man cupped her face, his voice low and certain.

"Of course we won’t. We’ll stay together forever and ever... for centuries to come."

She smiled, her heart feeling light yet strangely distant, as if floating between reality and illusion.

"Of course," she murmured. "Yes, my hubby."

The man’s voice was gentle yet firm.

"Come on, go and lie down. You need enough rest—tonight is going to be a very long night."

His words carried a chuckle, a deep, knowing sound that made Naomi’s heart begin to race uncontrollably. Her pulse quickened, and a sense of anticipation—tinged with warm—washed over her. What did he mean by "long night"?

Then, with a teasing smirk, he added, "Because we’ll be making a lot of babies tonight. Maybe even triplets or quadruplets."

She giggled, turning her head to the side, her cheeks warming with embarrassment. His words were playful, but they sent a jolt of something else through her—a strange mixture of love and curiosity.

He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against her skin. "You see, my wife, this is one of the reasons I love teasing you. But I’m not joking. Tonight really will be a long night, so lay back and rest."

She nodded, but before she could process it, she felt something wet trail down her cheeks.

Tears?

Was she... crying?

But why?

She tried to move, to say what was truly on her mind, but her body wouldn’t respond. It was as if she were locked in this dream, unable to break free, unable to resist.

What kind of dream was this?

The man suddenly stilled beside her, his voice laced with concern.

"My wife... what’s wrong? Do you feel any pain?"

Naomi shook her head, struggling to understand the emotions flooding her. It was as if they came from somewhere deep within, somewhere she couldn’t reach or comprehend.

"No..." Her voice wavered. "Why do I feel so emotional? Why do I feel like... I won’t see you again?"

The man was silent for a moment before speaking, his voice soft yet unwavering.

"Of course, you’ll see me. I’m always here, baby. Always and always here for you. And I will make sure that nothing—no one—ever harms you."

His words were a quiet vow, sinking deep into Naomi’s heart. She nodded slowly, then hesitated before asking,

"If I were to die... would you marry again?"

Tears continued to slip down her cheeks, an ache settling deep within her chest. The heaviness of the question hung in the air, thick with the weight of the unknown.

And just as she felt herself breaking free from whatever held her captive in this dream, her lips parted to ask Where am I?—

But before she could utter a word, her breath caught.

With a sudden gasp, Naomi jolted upright, her eyes flying open.

Her vision blurred as sweat trickled down her face, mixing with the tears that refused to stop. Why was she still crying?

Her wide eyes darted around, taking in the familiar sight of her own room. The weight of reality settled in, grounding her. She was home. But why did it feel so... wrong?

Her gaze landed on the pair of shoes carelessly placed on her bed, a stark contrast to the dream she had just woken from. And beside her—

Zylan.

He was there, his face etched with concern as he gently shook her shoulder. It seemed he had been trying to wake her up.

Without thinking, Naomi threw her arms around him, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping her from slipping back into that strange, lingering sorrow.

Zylan said nothing, only rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles. His touch grounded her, but it couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

What kind of dream was that?

It wasn’t a nightmare. No, it felt different. It felt like something deeper—

Like a promise.

A long-forgotten promise.